


Hunting

by ozuttly



Category: GARO (TV), Sengoku Basara
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, But it helps, Fighting, M/M, Makai priests, Rivalry, makai knights, you don't really need any knowledge of garo to read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 23:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20768432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozuttly/pseuds/ozuttly
Summary: In which Date Masamune is the makai knight assigned to the northern district, who somehow keeps wandering into the west for a bout with a certain spearman.Sengoku Basara/Garo fusion au. Knowledge of Garo helps but isn't really needed I suppose.





	1. Chapter 1

You’re trespassing again.

Kojuro isn’t even here and he can still hear his voice in his head as clear as day, chastising but not judging. He wouldn’t be surprised if his retainer did know what he was doing, even all the way back at the Date mansion. Masamune’s grin doesn’t falter as he continues to weave his way through dark alleyways, avoiding the nearby main streets where he can hear the din of people wandering about, talking, shopping. It was so close, but it felt like a different world. Separated by an invisible sheet of glass.

He was trespassing. He’d crossed the invisible border between the northern district and the western one a block and a half back, when his prey had tried to escape. When he’d let it escape, really, because a horror of this level would be all too easy to corner and kill back up in his own territory. But it’s been a long time since he’s had any sort of challenge, and there’s an itch to fight building under his skin that’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

Masamune hates feeling restless. If the tribune isn’t going to give him a challenge, he’ll seek one out on his own.

He takes a sharp right turn when he spots blood smeared on a nearby brick wall, foul smelling and black. If it were his own territory he’d have Kojuro help him purify it later, but right now it’s not his problem. He can hear a faint gurgling coming from the end of the alleyway, wet, heavy breathing, and the corners of his mouth are twitching as his hand rests against the sheath hanging from his right hip.

One. One of six is enough to deal with a threat of this level. Hell, he doesn’t even need to summon his armour as the horror lunged at him from the nearby shadows. It’s ugly, with mottled, rotting flesh and jagged teeth. Masamune’s sword pierces through its skull as it jumps at him, jaws gnashing. He cleaves it in two easily, separating the jaw and watching the spray of black blood splatter against the nearby buildings.

It was a disappointing hunt, all things considered. His district has been remarkably quiet as of late, with only the occasional small fry showing up now and then. It might be a sign of worrying things to come, but Masamune will worry about that when it comes to it.

He sheathes his sword, exhaling as he watches the body dissolve in front of him. It’s been about ten minutes since he deliberately triggered the ninja’s barrier, so it should be any moment now…

A gust of wind and an enraged yell are all the warning he has before a blur of red comes barreling down from the roof of a nearby building, and Masamune ducks his head just as a three-pronged spear buries itself into the wall behind him. His lips curve upwards, his heart pounding again with the thrill of the fight as he draws his sword.

A second spear comes hurtling towards him and he knocks it away, watching as the owner of the weapons leaps from the roof and lands gracefully in the alley below. The first spear is retrieved and clashes against his sword faster than he can blink, and god, he missed this. He feels electricity like it’s running through his veins as he wards off another attack and counters with one of his own.

“Sanada Yukimura, long time no see,” he greets as the man in front of him attempts to stab his head once more. He parries the blow with his second sword, and its been so long since he’s had to fight with two.

The man across from him looks furious, his face scrunched up in an expression of righteous rage as he attacks once more.

“Date Masamune! This is the western district, the land of the Takeda! How dare you set foot onto my territory again!” Yukimura is as loud as ever, and he doesn’t stop attacking between his angry tirade. Masamune can feel blood dribble down his neck from a glancing blow to the side of his face, and he dodges another thrust before mirroring the wound on Yukimura in turn.

“Don’t be so picky, Sanada. I was following orders,” he replies, because it’s technically true. The tribune had instructed him to kill that horror, back when it was hiding up in the north of the city and gorging itself on drunken businessmen. It had been quite the beautiful woman before dropping its disguise and showing its true form. Yukimura hardly looks convinces, and Masamune tosses his second sword to his right hand, catching the spear hurtling towards his chest between the two blades as he draws a third.

“You, the makai knight and guardian assigned to the northern district, have no business killing horrors on our ground!” Yukimura announces, indignation and insult clear in his voice, and Masamune wonders how he can yell so much in the middle of a battle without losing his breath. No wonder he tends to get winded so easily. “Besides that, Masamune-dono, a horror of that caliber should have been no trouble for you to dispatch! The fact that you let it get away is a besmirching of my honour, as your rival!”

His face is red, and Masamune isn’t sure if it’s from anger or exertion or something else. It makes something in his chest burn hot, and he draws his remaining three swords in a rush of excitement. There’s no armour, never is when the two of them meet in battle. Their rows are always deadly, dangerous affairs where they throw everything they have at one another, but he doesn’t truly wish to kill Yukimura. He supposes that the same is true for the younger knight, as there has never truly been a decisive victor between the two of them. So far, he has encountered Yukimura in combat seven times, and has brought him to his knees only twice.

They always get interrupted, either by fatigue or a third party. It’s a pity, but it means that he can always come back and instigate another battle later, so he finds he doesn’t mind it as much as he probably should.

They’re reaching that point now, their blows becoming more and more furious, and the buildings around them are feeling the wear. Hunks of brick and stone fly through the air as Yukimura’s spear hits the edge of a doorway, and they move into another alleyway. Masamune’s swords slice a garbage can to ribbons when Yukimura leaps out of the way, and he can feel the tension boiling, like a dragon curling under his skin waiting to burst out. All six of his swords are singing, and this is better than any hunt he’s ever been on - no horror, no demonic beast will ever come close to matching the sheer stubborn force of nature that is Sanada Yukimura in battle.

Masamune grins, all sharp teeth as Yukimura rushes at him again with an impassioned yell, and he raises all six swords to meet his attack, but before there can be an impact he suddenly feels himself being pushed back by an invisible force. One glance at the shocked look on his opponent’s face says that he’s experiencing the same, and Masamune clicks his tongue. Damned ninja never, ever lets them finish.

“Sasuke!!” Yukimura wails the name in displeasure as the priest appears, brush raised with another talisman in hand as a warning. The barrier that separated them right now was simple, but Masamune had seen his rival’s retainer in battle and knows that he can do far scarier things. He’s a brilliantly skilled makai priest, with a knack for magic and stealth that can’t be matched by anyone, aside maybe Uesugi’s beautiful partner.

“Danna,” Sasuke begins, sounding far too tired for his own good. “You do realize that you’re supposed to be protecting the city, not breaking it.”

Yukimura looks sufficiently cowed at his glare, his jaw jutting out in something close to a pout.

“But Sasuke! Masamune-dono was infringing on our territory yet again! As the knight in charge of the western district, and charged with protecting the honour of the Takeda–!!”

Masamune sighs. The momentum is gone now, and he sheathes his swords even though Yukimura looks offended by the very action.

“I’m sure that the one eyed dragon will learn from this mistake, won’t he?” There’s a thinly veiled threat as the ninja turns to him, his smile showing too many teeth, and Masamune snorts with a shrug of his shoulders. He’s not intimidated - Sanada’s priest may be impressive, but he’s nothing compared to Kojuro.

“Well, my business here is done anyways,” he replied calmly, though he can’t hide his disappointment. He had been hoping for a more drawn out fight. Yukimura is watching him, looking like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t seem able to find the words. It’s almost enough to make Masamune laugh. “See you again, Sanada.”

He grins as Yukimura begins another tirade about trespassing and honour, but he’s already turned to leave. He knows that the other enjoys this just as much as he does.


	2. Chapter 2

During the daytime, the borders between districts are less strict. Horrors are only truly active at night, after all, and while makai knights have duties during the daytime hours as well, they’re far less dangerous. 

Which is why Masamune doesn’t even consider it trespassing when he visits the supermarket in the western district. Kojuro was gone for a few days - his brush and other tools were losing power and needed to be maintained, and the tribune in the capital had received a spirit beast’s pelt that could be used to do so - and the store of meat in the freezer had run out. 

It was merely a coincidence that this place had the best price on beef in the city.

He was debating whether he should call a cab or lug his bags all the way across the city by foot when somebody bumped into him. He stumbled only a bit, but the bags in his hands were overladden and heavy, and it didn’t take much for the plastic to tear. The carton of eggs he’s just bought fell to the ground with a crunch. 

“Ah, my apologies! I was not paying enough attention to where I was going, sir, I will most certainly–”

Their hands touch as Masamune bends down to gather his things at the same time that Yukimura does, and the younger knight cuts off mid-sentence when their eyes meet. 

It’s the first time Masamune has ever seen Yukimura in daylight. There’s usually no point to venture this far west when he’s not chasing a horror, and of course Sanada never leaves his designated territory. The red of his coat is even brighter under the light of the sun, and there’s an antique cuckoo clock of all things tucked under one of his arms. 

The both of them are silent for a moment before Yukimura backpedals, one finger jabbing at Masamune’s face accusingly as his face twists in anger and insult. 

“Date Masamune! You dare to brazenly show your face here, again, after I have continuously told you that such–!” 

Masamune sighs. He doesn’t dislike Yukimura’s energy or enthusiasm, he really doesn’t. But he actually doesn’t feel like fighting right now, and he grabs the fallen bags and holds them up to Yukimura’s face to silence him. 

“Groceries,” he says simply, and the other knight hardly seems convinced or placated, but more than that Masamune is curious about what he’s holding. It’s ordinary looking, if a bit old and dusty, but there’s an invisible malevolence that clings to the clock, swirling around it. “You’re destroying gates?”

Yukimura’s back straightens, his chest puffing out almost in challenge.

“The duty of a makai knight does not end during the nighttime hours, Masamune-dono! It is my duty to gather and eliminate items that may call horrors into this world!” He says it proudly, as though daring Masamune to say something in response, or to interfere in some way. He looks more than ready to draw his spears from where they’re strapped to his back and begin a battle right then and there, in the middle of a busy city street in broad daylight.

Masamune finds himself admiring that spirit and ferocity, but he also knows a little bit about discretion. While he is more than happy to be notorious in the world of knights and priests, getting involved with the regular authorities isn’t really something he wants to do, so he simply laughs and rolls his shoulders. 

“You sure are dedicated, Sanada,” he replies with a little smirk before turning around to leave. “Good luck with that, then!”

He can imagine the face that Yukimura is making behind him, indignant and annoyed, but he doesn’t expect the younger man to grab him by the arm and stop him. For a moment he thinks that they actually are going to fight, but then he gets a look at Yukimura’s face, and he looks surprisingly earnest. 

“Masamune-dono, I am not going to let you leave after I ruined your shopping,” he says, and Masamune can only blink dumbly in response. “I implore you to wait until I have taken care of this, and then I will replace your carton of eggs.”

Masamune only blinks again, before he feels a smile tugging on his lips, and then he’s laughing harder than he has in ages. Yukimura’s face is red, and he almost sputters before Masamune shakes his head, trying to reassure him. 

“Really, you…” You’re something else, Sanada, he thinks, but he knows better than to push Yukimura’s temper any further than this. “Alright then. I’ll wait for you.”

Yukimura still looks a little put out that he had been laughed at, and god, he’s almost pouting, but he stubbornly nods his head and turns around, waiting patiently for Masamune to follow before he heads back in the direction of the supermarket. Masamune watches him, admiring the straight line of his back beneath his coat, and the way that his hair actually seems to shine in the sunlight.

He finds that he likes it, really, seeing Yukimura like this. Perhaps he’ll have to take shopping duty from Kojuro more often.


	3. Chapter 3

His coat has a hole in it. 

It’s to be expected, really. The coat is rather old, passed through four generations of the Katakura family before coming into Masamune’s possession on his sixteenth birthday. The Katakura family were not famous knights, and the quality of the magical tailoring and protection was nowhere near the level that had been given to the coat that had belonged to Masamune’s own father. 

A coat that has sat unused in the closet upstairs, gathering dust for eight years. It’s not that Masamune is in any way ashamed of his heritage. But Kojuro had been the one who had truly raised him, helped shape him into the man he was today, and he would much rather honour that legacy than a man he’d barely known and a mother who had always hated him. 

Kojuro keeps a sewing kit in a drawer in the kitchen, nestled between a tin of shoe polish and a package of dusting cloths. Masamune digs it out and takes it into the sitting room, tossing the coat over the coffee table so he can see the tear clearly. He squints as he tries to remember how Kojuro had taught him to do this ages ago, a skill for practicing precision when he’d first lost his right eye. He’d been only seven then, hadn’t even started his knight’s training, and it’s never seemed so long ago than it does now. 

He pins the rip closed, deciding that it looks clean enough, then tries four times to thread the needle before succeeding. Tying the delicate knot at the end is even harder, especially now that he doesn’t have tiny child’s fingers. But he does it, and he begins to stitch. 

It’s not unlike stitching a wound, he thinks. He’s had to do that a few times, on long missions away from home when he and Kojuro were separated, or that one time that his retainer had been attacked by a particularly nasty horror, his calf split open from ankle to knee. If he thinks of it like that, it becomes easier, as he sets aside his doubts and focuses on the task at hand. 

He’s knotting the end of the thread when Kojuro returns from the supermarket, bags in his arms. He pauses in the doorway of the sitting room when he sees what his lord is doing, but it’s only for a moment before he continues into the kitchen. Masamune is putting the sewing kit back in order when Kojuro returns, brush in hand. 

Masamune looks up at him, then down at the coat, and for a moment he feels like he’s six years old again and trying to impress his teacher. Kojuro’s expression is calculating as he inspects the stitches over Masamune’s shoulder, then nods his head. 

“They’re very neat,” he comments, and Masamune hums in agreement. He’d surprised himself, honestly. He’d been expecting it to come out looking shabby and poorly done, but he can hardly tell there’d been a tear at all. The corners of Kojuro’s mouth turn up ever so slightly as he traces the edge of the leather, then turns it over to inspect the silk lining. 

It was the only thing that Masamune had changed. Originally it had been checked, a simple pattern of browns that reflected the outside. Now it was a royal blue, the colour of his armour, the embroidered lightening bolts the symbol of the Date’s unique abilities and specialty. Kojuro had hand-embroidered it himself when Masamune had jokingly suggested the change. 

Kojuro runs his brush slowly along the hidden tear, eyes closing for a moment as cobalt sparks jump lightly from the edge. Masamune watches with a small smile as the enchantments over the garment are re-melded together. The process is repeated on the other side, and then Kojuro steps back and nods his head. 

“It looks good,” he says as Masamune pulls the coat on once more, a sure grin upon his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an au I wrote years ago on tumblr and forgot to post to ao3.


End file.
